I've Got Sinning On My Mind
by MintQueenJo
Summary: A brazen look flashed in his eyes as he leaned closer to her. "Does your husband know what you're about to do?" "No," and that was it. That was the word that broke the dam.
1. Chapter 1

**Break the hands on every clock**

**So we can take our time**

**Make the most, live every minute**

**It's all so that I can make you mine**

**-Slaves 'Body On Fire'**

* * *

Feyre honestly didn't know why the man in front of her caught her eye, maybe it was that he was so different from her husband? Where her husband was all light haired and fair skinned tan this man was dark, dark hair with a matching set of strange almost violet eyes, and his tan was more to do with his genetics than the actual sun. His cheekbones were sharp and maybe that was it, the difference between her husband and this man made her do it.

She was in a club sipping a drink when she caught the handsome stranger out of the corner of her eye appreciatively checking her out. She normally would have ignored him, _ but _she was in a mood to flirt. She was out because Tamlin and her had gotten into a fight and she needed to unwind. A drink bought by the handsome stranger and she was flirty and loving the attention, even if the man seemed suspicious when asked about his profession.

That didn't stop her from continuing to flirt as if he'd be lucky.

At some point she realized the man— Rhys —thought so too. Well she did as he picked up her left hand and studied the ridiculously large emerald of her wedding ring. With her mouth upturned at one corner she started to slide it off with her thumb.

A brazen look flashed in his eyes as he leaned closer to her. "Does your husband know what you're about to do?"

"No," and that was it. That was the word that broke the dam. She was pulling him up from their seats at the bar, "where to?"

That's how she found herself giggling as she was wrapped around him as they checked into a hotel thirty minutes away from where they met. It's how she found herself being led down the hall to their room, past the rooms probably full of sleeping guests it was almost two in the morning. She walked past him into the room, already on edge when the key card had buzzed and let them in. He shut the door and she turned to face him, he crowded against her and placed open kisses on her exposed neck and shoulders, one hand gathering most of her hair to hold it out of the way. His other hand bunched in the top of her dress and started to pull it down off her. Feyre was standing next to the hotel bed in black lacy panties and heels, the dress around her ankles.

With a slow seductiveness she sat down making him follow her with his mouth before he was kneeling next to the bed to let his mouth wander down to her breasts. He cupped one so he could suck on the nipple, fingers hard on her skin. With a hand planting firmly on her chest she was pushed backwards as his mouth traveled down her navel, biting the flesh as he went.

She raised her legs to put them over his shoulders as his nose ran down the front of her panties. His teeth nipped before he mouthed her through the fabric, he pulled aside the lace to place his mouth against her skin, his tongue ran between her folds until he pressed it hard against her clit. A moan tore from her throat as he closed mouth to suck on it. The points of her heels dug into his shoulders when she placed her feet flat on his shoulders. His mouth worked her, his tongue entering her, tasting her. With a hand pressing his head closer she pressed her cheek against the blanket on the hotel bed. Rhysand made sure she was shaking by the time her removed that last piece of clothing before undressing himself. The condom was rolled on and he rest on his knees between her thighs, one in each hand. She whined as he pushed in, skin on fire as he gave a testing thrust looking at her.

She clung to him as he thrust slowly and deeply, her heels pressed against his thighs. Her mouth met his as it didn't take much for her to come again. Feyre was sure after orgasm number three— or was it four? —she blacked out, only coming to as he moved away.

She came to with him standing next to her, hips thrusting cock in his own hand. She felt bad and he smiled, "just watch."

Her eyes screamed I'm sorry and that just made his smirk grow before his eyes closed. He spilled his release down his closed fingers, and took a few steadying breaths before he turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Shifting enough to crawl over to him, Feyre took hold of his come covered hand and licked it clean. "To make up for falling asleep."

"Am I that bad?" He laughed, but there was a bit of tightness.

She furiously shook her head, "god no, just, I haven't been sleeping well and you just helped. What time do we have to be out?" Heels were tossed to the floor as she slid up towards the headboard.

"Not until tomorrow morning," he moved the covers back as the both settled down in the bed.

They both knew they should leave and go their own separate ways, but there in the dark with only the hotel sign giving enough light to barely see, she could feel his eyes on her and Feyre didn't know if he knew how much she wanted him to hold her. That was wrong to want someone who was a stranger to touch her, she was married, but they just had sex, and she wasn't recieving it from the man she married.

She awoke right before daybreak and slid below the sheets taking him into her mouth, she wanted to make up for last night. He moaned and tangled a hand in her brown hair, her name spilled from his lips and she pulled off him.

"I'm sorry for last night, if we were better prepared I'd ride you to make up for it even more." She moved her mouth back on him and gagged a little when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Soon it was both his hands in her hair guiding her head up and down, making her take him all the way each time. She hollowed her cheeks and he came, shooting down her throat.

"Forgiven?" She whispered into the muscles of his abdomen.

He nodded and then looked at the clock on the table beside the bed, seeing that it was only close to seven in the morning. "God, we have a few hours left to sleep. Come back to bed."

She crawled back into his waiting arms and rested her cheek against her hand on his chest as an arm wrapped around her to rest on her hip.

The alarm on his phone went off after what had to have been only a few minutes and he groaned, pressing the warm body tucked against him closer. A groan came from the small figure as she blearily leaned up on an elbow, "do we have to?"

Rhysand followed, sitting up with his arms resting on his knees, as his almost purple eyes watched her crawl out of bed and look at her dress. It was nine forty-five and check out was at eleven, time to walk of shame it. He dressed in his slacks and button up, holding a hand out. "Sizes?"

She answered in shock, and as he disappeared out of the room she hopped in the shower. She might as well at least be clean of sweat and other fluids. When she got out of the shower she stood there, now what?

The door clicked shut as she walked the room wrapped in the plush white towel of the hotel. Rhys holds up a bag of freshly purchased clothes— and a bag of wonderful smelling food.

His violet eyes raked down her body and a shiver went up her spine, "are you hungry?" She takes the bag of clothes and he asks again.

"Not for food." Came the reply. And she wasn't, she didn't want to leave and go back to the real world. Back to _ him _.

He set the food down on the table and sat on the sofa against the wall, eyebrows raised as he reclined, supposing he could pay for another night he called down to the front desk to extend their stay. His fingers worked to open his shirt as she dropped the towel and set of clothes, ignoring her wet hair against her back as she strutted over to him. He pulled Feyre between his legs to lean forward and run his lips across her abdomen, strands of his hair tickling her breasts. He nipped the undersides and pulled her closer to latch onto a nipple. Her fingers would tangle and untangle in his hair to press him closer, her hips rolled where she stood, body aching with want and the need she felt for this man. She wondered if him being so close he could smell her, if he knew how much she craved him.

She was moving then pushing him back as she stepped onto the cushions to lower herself onto his mouth and rolled her hips, amazed he let her do this— Tamlin never let her —she normally just laid there. While it was good at first it got old, but this, this with Rhysand was on a different level.

Far better than anything.

His hands cupped her ass and let her work herself against him, pale fingers reaching down to rub her swollen clit, fingers of her other hand tight on the back of the couch. It didn't take her long to come, a few moans that sounded like a cross between a whine and a grunt, and she was spent.

He lowered her down and pulled a box of condoms from the other shopping bag, "I had hoped."

"Well, good that we are on the same level." she moved enough so they could work his cock free and the condom on, then she was sinking down on him. Forcing her hips to roll slowly, Feyre was nothing more than a rag doll, his hands firm on her hips. "Rhys." Hands cupped his face as her damp hair clung to her, he forced her to bounce on him then. His cock penetrated her again and again, and with each thrust she leaned more into him attaching her lips to his.

Only on the way back did Feyre check her phone, so many calls and texts, all ones she ignored. Tamlin was furious with her, yelling once she got home. Yelling about how she made him look a fool at his company dinner, that if anyone knew she wasn't home sick, and how she had no right to ignore him all night and then leave the house before he got home.

Thankfully she remembered to put the ring back on before leaving the hotel.

It was the second time when she went out and saw Rhysand, heart hammering as she walked up to him. Feyre fully expected him to act like he didn't know her but instead a warm smile grew on his face and he ducked close as she whispered in his ear, "I'll buy one this time, if you want." It didn't take anymore prompting for them to be naked in a hotel room bed. For two nights, because they missed check out again, all purchased on her husband's card.

Two days of an ignored phone on both ends.

Rhys moved over her, in her, around her. Everything in that hotel room was him, her nails dug into his back and she pressed her forehead against his neck.

He entwined their fingers as they lay in bed, her face pressed against his chest, "tell me about yourself, Feyre Darling."

"What is there to tell? I was an art major and quit when I met my husband. He wanted me to stay home for children and housework." He tensed at that, at her words. "There aren't any children, I go in for shots, I won't give him any as if it's a responsibility on me to do that. Not something I want but what is expected."

"Then why stay?" His thumb stroked her cheek, he knew the answer before she even said it.

She didn't have one.

Her card was declined the next morning when she paid for breakfast and her face went red. Heating with shame as his long fingers held up his own card and she sheepishly took hers back. They regarded each other as he signed the receipt, "I guess someone didn't appreciate you using their money to pay for what you like."

A smirk as he held out a hand, "no issues, Feyre Darling. I don't mind, you can just think of other gifts to give me."

Angered, and feeling bold, when she made Rhys park a block down the street from her house Feyre unbuckled, hands going to undo his pants. Her lips wrapped around his cockhead and she sucked, moaning when he did and when his hand grabbed the back of her head. The nails of one hand dug into the seat under her as the fingers on the other wrapped tightly around him.

It was broad daylight and Feyre was moving her mouth along his cock like it was her sole reason for living. He hit the back of her throat and with a grunt overhead he came, spilling into her as she swallowed around him.

With neither a word or sound passing between them both Rhys reached up and wiped her bottom lip with his thumb. Her hand that was on his thigh moved down the front of her leggings to press two fingers against her clit. Her hiss broke off into a moan when he pressed his thumb against her tongue, his almost violet eyes trained on her own grey ones. They watched as color flushed her face even more, as her hips rocked a little into her own hand. He leaned over to run his lips across a cheek as she shifted, nearly over him in the front seat as two fingers on her most sensitive spot turned into three fingers sinking inside her.

"Rhys," her free hand tangled into his hair as she pressed her face into his shoulder. One arm wrapped around her as the other hand went to slide under her shirt to cup a breast. "Rhys."

"I'd take you back home with me, just say the words, darling."

With a yelp her body shuddered as her orgasm rocked through her, he didn't want to let her go— not yet. In what seemed like only seconds they pulled apart to right their clothing. With a lingering glance she slid out of the passenger seat and walked the block to her house. She hoped that he was just as disappointed as she was in herself for not turning around and getting back in the car. The house was seemingly quiet as she set foot through the door.

Tamlin's car in the driveway betrayed the idea that she was alone.

She softly closed the door and snuck passed the partially opened office door, "Feyre." Her foot came down hard on the first step and she paused, a good housewife would turn around and try to explain to her husband where she had been. About the charges on the credit card.

Instead she dug it out of her purse as she continued up to the bedroom, pinched between two fingers she tosses it over her shoulder. She didn't like taking advantage of Rhys but if he was more than willing to pay for everything right now then it would have to do.

"Are you not going to explain this?" Tamlin cornered her during dinner, the hotel purchases on their banking account from her card bright on the phone screen. "Who were you with?"

"Myself, I'm tired, Tamlin. I'm tired of sitting around this fucking hosue and not doing a goddamn thing." She dropped her fork continuing to glare at him from where he stood over her.

"Then paint!" He sighed, "how about we go to that painting class Alis talked about? Remember the little shop when we first got married? Let's go do one of those couples date adventures."

"Fine," she pushed away from the table, the next class he was free for wasn't for another two weeks but it would do. He followed her up the stairs to their room.

Five days passed before her phone lit up one afternoon— a text from a friend Clare, asking to go out. The clothes she left in were immediately swapped out as she hid between Calre's car and a dumpster behind a gas station.

"If you're that unhappy that you have to sneak around then leave. Leave him, Feyre." The woman shrugged after getting only a few details about her friend's unhappy marriage. She bit her bottom lip debating whether or not to tell Clare about Rhys— deciding on the latter of the two options.

"Though it looks like you're still getting it, you have a hickey the size of a quarter on your collarbone. And two more one on your neck and the other— oh that's a bite." A whistle from the driver as Feyre's face heats. The woman completely forgot about Tamlin actively bedding her the past couple of days, but with her phone so silent.

The low lighting in the club made her sequined red dress a deep purple as she moved across the floor, having lost Clare several minutes ago. The music was steady and with so many appreciative looks tossed her way she was— _ uncomfortable _. Maybe she should have begged for them to go to the bar where she met Rhys. Especially if Clare was just going to abandon her the second they walked through the door. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she lifted it up reading the words on the screen from Tamlin asking if she would be home early.

Before a response was sent to her husband a notification popped up, an attachment. An attachment of her…

Ass?

It was her backside in the red dress, hair slightly curled between her shoulder blades. The caption read '** _God, you look so good._ ** ' Turning with her drink in hand she scanned the floor looking over the bodies, phone buzzing in her hand again. ' ** _I wish to be your straw._ **'

A devilish smirk crossed her lips as she pushed her breasts together a little with an arm crossing over her midsection. Her red lips wrapped tightly around the straw as she drank.

'** _Stop teasing me with the straw, Feyre._ **'

The phone was silent before a glass was set down next to her, "from the gentleman over there." Down the bar Rhys leaned against the wood, eyes bright with unhidden want. She took both of her drinks after sliding her phone between her breasts.

"Hello," the smile was instant, "where have you been?"

"Meetings." He frowned a finger poking a spot on her neck. "I see I haven't been missed too much. Your husband doing his job now?"

Heat pooled in her stomach, "barely. I have to stay aware enough to not scream for you."

"That should be fixed," he took her hand and pulled them through the bar drinks forgotten as they headed to his car. Sitting in the passenger seat she shot a text to Clare about getting a ride home and to have fun.

"I think they're getting used to us," Feyre gasped out as lips attached themselves to her neck the second they were in a room. Tan fingers slid up the skirt of the tiny dress to reveal bare skin, a hum from his throat as Rhys' fingers worked her open.

He bent her over the edge of the king bed and dropped to his knees, waiting with bated breath she rolled her hips. Then that first touch of his tongue came— just not where she thought it was going to be. His fingers slid back into her cunt as his mouth worked on her ass.

Once he brought her to completion his slicked fingers worked their way to where his mouth was. Feyre jerked and moaned as he slid inside, "Rhys."

"Too much? Want me to stop?"

She shook her head pushing back against the two fingers in her.

"Good girl."

Her husband would have just done it she realized as Rhys waited, thumb rubbing small circles onto her skin. But as Feyre laid there and rolled over the idea in her mind Rhys was ever patient. The only demand he had given her was in the car— two to be exact: scream his name as long as they were together, and leave her wedding ring on. He wouldn't demand anything other than those two things and with a verbal agreement he was slowly inching his way inside her. It felt different, not bad and it became better as he rolled his hips. Each thrust becoming deeper and making her eyes roll back. As he fucked her and pulled her head back by a handful of hair did she scream his name like promised.

"I can only stay the night. I have a lunch meeting tomorrow afternoon, unfortunately."


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't you know we can do anything?**  
**If you feel it too, then girl don't be ashamed**  
**Don't you know you can do everything**  
**If you just let me lay you down?**

**-Slaves 'Body On Fire'**

* * *

Deep blue eyes stared up at her as his mouth and tongue tasted her, as he sucked bruises into the flesh on her thighs, as his tongue pushed back into her opening with no hesitation. She bit the back of her hand to keep quiet, her toes curled as two fingers slid into her. Tears leaked from her eyes as she turned her head to the side, cheek flat with the pillow under her head.

She bit harder on her skin as two fingers with torturous slowness became four, "shh, Feyre." Fingertips rubbed hard on a spot deep within her that felt better than anything she had ever experienced. She whined behind her closed mouth, hoping that the hand she had over her face muffled enough as her legs shook with her building release.

A release that never came.

Feyre panted, frustrated, and withdrew her soaked hand from her underwear, eyes flicking to Tamlin's naked back— snores still coming from the sleeping man. She rolled over to her side and grabbed her phone. A quick picture of her messy hand, with the flash on, was attached to the message ' **When do you get back? **'

Minutes pass and she gets up heading to the bathroom to wash her hands. Grabbing her phone, earbuds, and housecoat she makes her way down to the guest room turned studio. Sitting cross legged in an oversized chair she sketches out a few easy drawings with graphite and colored pencils. Some flowers that remind her of her sister Elain, part of the sunset, and almost violet eyes. The phone resting against her thigh buzzes and she would be embarrassed if anyone saw how eagerly she snatched it up.

* **exasperated emoji ***

' **Mmm, not soon enough. Did you have fun? **'

She smiled just a little and only replied with a smiley, even if it wasn't true.

She missed him, she shouldn't miss him as much as she did. As if he could read the true meaning of that little smile her phone began the ring of a video call, soon enough his dark blue eyes were on her.

"You look tired." She blurted out and then bit her lip as he raised a dark brow. "I mean, you should be resting instead of talking to me." She was aware of how loud she was being, headphones tended to do that.

"I'll always make time to talk to you, Feyre Darling." She smiles wider and before she can respond the door starts to open, blond hair appearing as she presses the phone against her. Making sure the screen was in fact hidden as Tamlin leaned in the doorway.

"It's three in the morning, Feyre. How long have you been in here?" He crossed the carpet to press a kiss to the crown of her head, "drawing flowers in the gardens again? Who's this?" A sun kissed finger holds down the page to a sketch of what would be Rhys, only his eyes detailed.

Feyre hummed as the breathing in her ear halted, both waiting for an answer— or because she removed her earbuds and placed them on the table next to her with the phone face down. "I decided to try commissions again. Only took a few this time, one is Clare so she really doesn't count in my book."

"Well, I'm sure that the person wanting this sketch would want quality work and you can't do that on very little sleep. If you're having issues," her husband's voice got low like it did when he was aiming for seduction.

Hands moved her sketch pad and pencils, a tent started forming in his sleep pants. "Babe, I promised a sketch by tomorrow afternoon. I'll be back to bed once I'm satisfied."

It did the trick enough, Tamlin headed back to bed after a few kisses that were meant to persuade her into following him. She waited a few minutes before scooping up the phone to be met with a black screen. Rhys had hung up.

' **Goodnight? **'

There wasn't an answer and with a frustrated sigh she got up, unsure what to do now. The phone buzzed and the picture attached made her ache with want. Rhys was only in the frame from his jaw and down his torso, part of his cock in view— hard and curving up to his navel— ' **how much would this cost to have you sketch? **'

' **You want me to paint you like one of my French girls? **'

' **Maybe… get some sleep, Feyre Darling. **'

' **It's not you I'll be crawling next to in bed. **'

His responding text was the word soon and that perked her up enough to go be the good wife she should be. Just barely. Feyre found it harder to avoid her husband in bed, and she found it even harder to not accidentally call him Rhys. When was it soon?

"So when is baby planning going to start?" Clare excitedly asked one night over dinner and Tamlin quickly became very interested in his plate. The restaurant seemed too loud to Feyre now and Isaac— Clare's boyfriend for the time being— continued to eat. "Come on you two should have some want for children?"

"Not at the moment." Tamlin grit out, knife cutting through his steak with such enthusiasm. "I'm too busy."

"Sad," the brunette shrugged— sounding anything but sad— and returned to her food, not much later Tamlin's phone buzzed.

"If you'll excuse me there's an issue that I need to head in for. Do you mind giving Feyre a ride home?" His hand briefly touched his wife's cheek before leaving.

Dinner was finished and Isaac excused himself to the restroom before leaving— Clare let him know she'd get a taxi home and text him later. There was silence from the young woman as her friend ordered more wine. "You look so unhappy, Feyre."

"Why stay with Isaac if you know you're unhappy?" Feyre was tired of the spot light being on her.

"Why stay with Tamlin, especially since I saw the tall dark haired stranger you left with at the club?" The glass raised to her ruby lips with a smirk. Feyre frowned, not because she was found out per say but because how long Clare had been sitting on it? "Feyre?"

So she sucked it up and decided to tell a watered down PG version of her encounter with Rhysand. "—and now he's away on a business trip, probably with someone else in his bed. I mean why not you saw him, so I'm here trying to patch things with—"

"Stop, you've given Tamlin too much of your time and it's the same. You have to do what he wants within both of your boundaries that he agrees with. But you're still not happy even if he would compromise and with Rhysand— is that correct? Well with him you seem so happy. Your face lights up when you check your phone and even as you hear his name." Clare smiles, "and if you're worrying about him having other playthings then tease him. Make him feel like you have options— or that you are indeed patching things up. Trust me, men hate having competition."

She stared at the text she was typing out, a small smile on her face. She let her friend read it before getting a nod of approval and at the last minute chickening out and turning the screen off.

She enjoyed a couple more glasses of wine before her phone buzzed with an incoming call. "Hello? I'm still out with Clare," she was sure it was Tamlin. "Tam—"

However, her husband's voice wasn't on the other line. "Is this a bad time?"

"Oh," she looked across her as Clare raised a brow, working her fifth glass. "We're out— uhm. What are you?"

"Just finished my own dinner," there was something in his voice. "My flight landed early this morning and this is honestly the first time I've been conscious all day since then."

"You're home?"

Clare slammed down her glass and sat up straight, "we need a ride! Ask him— no! Wait, go home with him, Feyre."

"Do you mind giving me and my friend Clare a ride?" She ignores the last command of her friend, "you know, we can just get a cab, you're probably exhausted."

There was a low silky dark chuckle, "not at all, Feyre Darling, where are you?" His words wrapped around her— they slid up her legs as invisible hands and plunged into her like a tongue savoring her wet heat.

She gave him the name of the restaurant and paid her bill before walking outside to wait for him. Rhys' sleek black car pulls close to the curb in a matter of minutes, the two women climb in. Clare holding fast to the door to make Feyre sit up front.

"Thank you," Clare sighs from the back seat, "since Feyre is too chicken shit for introductions, I'm Clare."

"Rhysand."

"Hmm, Feyre, I like him." A wide smile as Feyre flushes.

The ride is quiet, and if she didn't know him, Feyre wouldn't notice the mild tension in the man's posture.

"Thank you again." Is whispered as the back door opened after they stopped in front of an apartment building.

He smiled at her, "where to?"

"I should get back to—"

There's a scoff, "to your husband, right. Well I'll—"

A slender hand rests against his thigh. "Hotel then?"

"I'm tired of hotel rooms, how about my house?" He starts down the road to the highway, "that is a beautiful dress you're wearing."

"Yeah."

"Did you have fun tonight? I like Clare." His hand took hold of hers, removing it from its place on his thigh. They sat in complete silence.

Feyre messed with the hem of her tight cocktail dress, the tension grew as they got off at an exit before heading down a street into a nice well lit neighborhood. The car pulled into a garage and he pressed a button on the rearview to close the door.

Was her asking for a ride too much? It would've angered Tamlin too or—

A panic filled her as they were walking in and he pulled out his phone, he seemed engrossed in it. She pulled out her own phone as she passed him in the living room.

Shit!

Rhys' name was at the top and at the bottom, the last message sent:

' **I'm beginning to think that soon is you putting me down nicely. Actually I'm starting to forget what you feel like. Maybe it wasn't as good as I thought it was. **'

"Darling, Feyre Darling," his lips were close to her ear. His hips pressed to her ass as a hand slid down her front to bunch up her dress to get between her thighs.

His mouth stayed near her ear. Long fingers pushed her panties out of the way as two rubbed her clit, her hips moved so her ass could rub against the growing tent in his jeans. "I've missed you."

"Rhys, please." She gasped, phone sliding from her hand to the carpet.

"So wet for something you can't remember being good or not." Rhysand withdrew and Feyre dropped to her knees, "should I remind you how good it is, Feyre Darling?" A whimper as stormy blue grey eyes take in each bunch of muscle as he removed his plain shirt, "or are you suddenly remembering?"

Her thighs press together at his words, another whimper leaving her. "Rhysand— Rhys. Please."

She begged as he got in a close proximity of her own hands being able to unbutton his pants. One of his hands cupped her cheek, raising her face to look at him. "Is this okay?"

Feyre opened her mouth as his thumb stroked her bottom lip, tongue briefly touching the rough skin. Rhys hooked his thumb in her mouth as his cock was freed, her lips greedily closed around it, "do you want it slow and deep or hard and fast?" The pop her mouth made once he pulled his thumb out of her now sucking mouth was loud.

"I want to feel it for days." She finally answered once he had her completely naked and her back was pressed into his carpet.

Rhys' chuckle is dark, a seductive amused noise as he kisses down her stomach. "Is this how you've imagined me as I was gone?"

Her answer is a long low whine as his lips touch between her thighs, the very place he frequented in her dreams. Her legs were over his shoulders with ankles crossed as he shifted enough to press a long finger into her as his tongue flattened against her clit. His name was a song rolling off her tongue, breathy pants adding to the duet.

His hair was silky soft between her fingers, the only grounding she had to the rising fire inside her. It all came crashing down though when the phone next to her started ringing.

Rhys lifted his mouth from her, hair falling across his forehead. "Do you need to get that?"

From the way his eyes started to harden she knew that he also had a guess as to who was calling her.

"Hello," the phone pressed to her ear, legs going slack as Rhys pulled away, shoulders tense.

"Where are you?"

Tamlin wasn't happy, like he had any right to be unhappy after just leaving dinner like he did. "Where are you?" She counter asked.

"I just made it home, now I'll ask again. Where. Are. You?"

"Clare's. We stayed and had some—" her lips clamped shut as Rhys slipped a perfect finger back in her. His eyes stayed trained on the wall next to them, another finger slipped in.

"Feyre?" The voice from her husband was worried.

"I just drank a lot and I'm crashing with Clare." She tried to disguise a moan as a groan.

The phone slid from her hand to the floor as her eyes met the man between her legs. He slid home and she gasped, fingers digging into his back with each thrust, his mouth stayed near her ear— opposite side to the phone— whispering the sweetest sound in the form of her name. "Hang up the phone, darling, or don't. I don't mind if he listens."

His hips pick up speed and a hand jerks against his back before grabbing the back of his head to pull his face away from her ear for a kiss. He fumbles for the phone and hangs it up before tossing it away from them.

Away from the Feyre that clung to him, her husband the last thought on her mind. "Feyre Darling, Darling Feyre. Stay with me tonight?" Her phone starts ringing again, clattering against the floor as it moves with its buzzing. It's barely heard over her moans. Each getting louder before she's practically screaming unintelligible words, "Feyre?"

"Yes, yes I will just don't stop. Please." His mouth presses harshly against hers as she comes, vision going white when Rhys doesn't stop his pace. By the time he finishes Feyre is just limp, letting Rhys move her to his bed.

"Brunch?" He asks in the morning when she joins him, wearing nothing but a shirt.

"My favorite meal of the day." She takes a mug from a cabinet, motioning to the coffee.

"Your phone was still ringing when I got up, it finally stopped— or died— after one fifteen." He looks at the clock with her, three after two. Tamlin must've been worried but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Not as Rhys stood in front of the stove watching a mouth watering omelette cook.

The ribbed tank he had on pulled taut across the small of his back with each move. She pressed her chest against him, hand sliding around to slip beneath the waistband of his sweats. She took firm hold of him and a groan rose from his chest.

Maybe next time they'd actually make it to the bed. She said as much when he bent her over the kitchen table away from the stove.


	3. Chapter 3

Soft lips trailed down her calf and Feyre giggled and tried to pull against the hold on her ankle. She sat on Rhys' couch legs across his lap— leg really minus the one in his hand— they were watching a ghost hunting special. Halfway through the episode Rhys had gotten distracted with the smooth silk skin under his palm.

"Stop I forgot to shave before coming over." Feyre made to move her leg and he let her go with a shrug.

"I don't care, stop shaving for weeks. I won't want you any less than I do right now, Feyre Darling." He picked her leg back up and ducked under it, positioning himself so he's on his knees between her legs on the couch. "I want you so much."

A tender touch as a warm palm slid the front of his shirt up, the flesh under his touch twitches. Her breath hitches as he cups a breast, leaning into the touch she tilts her face up to him— their lips joining is the intention she has.

The wrapper on a condom tears and she slips her underwear down as he rolls it on. Feyre gasps as he thrusts into her, his eyes close as her legs wrap around his hips. "Feyre, I have—" he stops, shoulders slouching, when his eyes open there's a look there. Then it's gone so quickly.

"Rhys," the words are there on the tip of her tongue before the shrill ring of her phone breaks them apart.

He groans as she grabs it off the coffee table next to them.

It was the deal Tamlin gave her, he found Clare a bad influence and wanted Feyre to stop seeing her. When she didn't come home from dinner she told a little lie that she stayed with Clare after they stayed and drank— the truth— but Tamlin still disapproved. The deal was that whenever he called she was to answer, no matter what or who she was doing.

It was also the fourth time Tamlin had called while she was with Rhys.

"Hello," her legs locked around the waist between them, not wanting her lover to wander.

"Where are you?"

"I'm—," where was she?

"Would you like to do lunch?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the usual lunch spot." Damn.

"How about I swing by the house and pick you up. I'll see you in twenty."

"I need—" the line went dead and her eyes were wide as she looked at the dark hair man. "I need to go. Tamlin is going to pick me up for lunch. I have to go now."

Rhys was silent as he slid out of her and dressed, he didn't say anything to her as they drove back into town. Like always they stopped a block away, her not wanting Tamlin to see the car and know that she was lying even more.

"Rhys." Feyre started and he unlocked the door for her.

"Go, Darling. You have five minutes to dress and shower." His voice held such reluctance in it, and a hint of something else. Something that she would have placed in the same column with anger.

Feyre watched his car pull away, a sinking feeling in her gut. The wood of the font door was cool against her back once she was inside, Tamlin would just have to let her be late.

'** Let me know when you make it home, please. **'

She sat her phone on the counter and stepped into the shower, twisting the knobs. The warm water heated her skin but her mind kept returning to Rhys. A few tears slid from the corners of her eyes as she replayed his face, how it seemed to have closed off as she watched him drive away. Feyre was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the bathroom door open and for a small slight chance she thought it would be the man she most wanted.

That he had found out where she kept the secret key and decided to risk the thrill of gettign caught.

"Why are you not ready?" Tamlin crossed his arm, eyes traveling up Feyre's body through the glass of the shower door, "I thought I gave you plenty of time, darling."

Her stomach dropped, that name felt so wrong coming from his mouth, and it felt even more wrong to turn and watch as he slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket. She shut off the water and grabbed her robe, hastily pulling it on much to the bewildered expression on her husband's face.

Sex with him the last that she wanted.

"Feyre?"

"I must be hungrier than I seemed when you called, so please let's just get going." She pulled on clothes, hands balling into fists in the fabric of a blouse. "I'm sorry, I'm hangry and shouldn't be taking it out on—"

"I understand." He places a small kiss on her forehead, "I worry. I don't want you to spiral back down like you used to. I've gotten better, I'm still going to my appointments when I can."

Appointments.

Tamlin was making an effort, had gone to anger management after a bad fight. And Feyre…

She hadn't been to see a therapist in months.

"Maybe we can do lunch like this weekly, I'll be done with the Hybern project in a couple of months." Tamlin spears a green bean on his fork, "I will have to leave to check up on it, to make sure that—"

"I understand." Feyre shrugs, she was okay being married to a man with such a demanding job. She was used to him being gone in the beginning and even now years later when it no longer mattered much anymore. "So what you mean is doing lunch together when you get back. Then you'll make time for me, and I guess a condition of that is me continuing therapy?"

Tamlin said something, he launched into an explanation on his concern but Feyre stopped listening. She stopped listening because Rhys walked in through the door, and on his arm was a pretty blonde haired girl, her plum blouse brought out the slight tan of her skin. She smiled at everything he said and would make small touches on his shoulder, fixing his collar and pulling invisible pieces of dust off the fabric of his shirt. She would poke his chest and then giggle when he'd lean in to whisper something to her. Tamlin was still talking and taking no heed of her sudden urge to no longer be sitting there clearly displayed across her face. Feyre stood abruptly when he pulled back with an almost feral smile and it turned her stomach sour because Feyre could've swore that it was the same look he would give her before feasting on her.

The scraping of the chair drew the attention of the woman and she turned, frowning at the obnoxious noise. Too blue eyes caught her and Feyre was turning in place, mumbling about a restroom.

'** Are you okay? **' Tamlin had texted her when she stayed in a stall far longer than what should have been normal.

'** Fine. **'

She pressed her phone against her ear, the ringing long and driving her up a wall with the shrillness of it.

"Feyre?" Her elder sister's voice sounded into her ear and Feyre sighed.

"I have a friend—"

"By friend you mean you. But you don't want to say you, correct?"

"Listen, Nesta. I have a friend who is married, and while her husband is sweet I guess he just— too much has happened between them for anything to be normal. And she started seeing this guy and it's been a thing for a while. And now her husband is being more attentive and caring. And while my friend likes him because of their history, with the other guy, she came close to saying it to him. She wanted to say it so bad." Her eyes sting from unshed tears. "But today after having to run home to play dutiful wife the—"

"Let me guess, he's out on a date. Feyre, honestly—" a long sigh. "Here's some more information that you're not including about this friend . Let us say this friend of yours has two older siblings, okay? Two siblings who don't approve — or care for — the man she picked to be her husband. Especially after watching her be hospitalized and he tried to hide that it was happening from these sisters. Then she calls her eldest sibling to ask about what? Advice about another piece of shit man? If this other guy has no issues finding others then you're either not the only one he's fucking— or he's tired of," she stops at the harsh noise from the youngest.

"I have to go before—"

"Leave him." Nesta hisses. "Just leave both of them. You deserve a lot more than a husband who waited until you got so bad you had to be hospitalized, and a guy you have to sneak around to see and then he goes on dates with others. Feyre, leave and move in with me and Elain. We'll care for each other and we can save up and help you get that gallery. Don't you still want to open your own place? That was your dream, I was going to get a little book shop, and Elain a garden shop, and you a little studio and gallery. We were gonna take up a block, remember?"

"I'll think about it." She pressed the red button and took some calming breaths willing her heart rate to go down.

Feyre wiped at her face and tried her best to look a little less worse for wear. '** I don't feel so well, can we go home? Please pack up my food, I'll eat it later, promise. **'

She tried to keep her face neutral as she left the bathroom, when she realized she'd have to pass his table to get to Tamlin. Her eyes didn't search his out, and her husband offered his arm to help his wife out the door. Her legs shaking and her body feeling tired and weak all of a sudden, a pain pricked in the center of her back and she felt hot.

"What happened?"

Her silence wasn't because of the inability to answer the question, it was for the tightness in her throat. That pain in her back was getting sharper, but like last time Tamlin just shook his head and walked her to the car.

* * *

Feyre was covered in pale cream yellow paint as she helped a friend paint backboards for his photo studio. Clare stopped by to help, having nothing better to do now that she was 'single and wide open to mingle'.

"So, Lucien," Clare smiled wolfishly, and Feyre noted how neither of them had asked her about her mood. "Have you asked that cute baker out?"

Feyre frowned in her friend's direction as the redhead nearly swallowed his tongue. "Are you done pining for my sister? Find some other girl to woo?"

"Not exactly," he mumbled into the green paint almost and Feyre's smile is wide as she creeps closer.

"What do you mean?"

"I like them both, your sister and Azriel."

"Azriel?" Feyre tilted her head as Clare 'Whooped' "We have a name now?"

"He runs the bakery down on the corner of fifth and—"

"Wait, wait, the 'Rainbow'? He has a shop on the Rainbow?" Feyre smiled, knowing the bakery, it having been one of Elain's favorite places to get her canisters of tea. She would walk by and look at the empty storefront that she once dreamed of making a studio, it having the big bay windows in the living area on the second floor. She once wanted a little shop and home combo.

"Yes, he invited me to try a new recipe. It was using some flowers that Elain had sold him from the gardens. I guess he saw that we were friends and wanted my opinion." Lucien sighed, "I'm watching the two people I have crushes on falling in love." He smacked the brush coated thickly with paint on one of the canvases.

Clare shrugged, "I saw a girl and she has me questioning whether I even like women or not. She is so fucking pretty and she makes my heart just do the thing, you know the thing. And Feyre—"

"We get it, Feyre and Tamlin," he spat the name of his ex best friend. "Have a wonderful—"

"I've been having an affair for the better part of three months and now I think I found out he has a girlfriend." I continue painting, not wanting to get into it. "Nesta told me to screw the both of them and leave. Be the happy old spinster that she is."

That has the three of them laughing, "she just wants you to divorce Tamlin so she can break his nose again."

Clare sat down to clean the brushes, "at least we can sit here with our relationship issues together— do you think that's why I never felt attached to any of the men I dated?"

"You're a mess," Lucien snorted and Clare stretched, wheels seeming to turn in her head.

"I could use some cake, I just happen to know this lovely little bakery down the Rainbow. Let's go Lucien, Feyre?"

Feyre worried for her friend who looked like he would keel over and die if bumped into, and she could see why when they entered the shop. The man behind the counter was tall, dark tan skin with hazel eyes, a wide bright smile as he handed a little girl a cake pop.

"Hey, Azriel," Lucien stumbled through his name but the man's eyes focused on ehr, confused.

"Elain?"

"I'm her sister, Feyre, small world I know." She shrugged and Clare ignored what she had set up by staring a little too hard at the cakes. "And you are, Azriel. I've heard a lot about you. I'm glad this part of the block finally is seeing some activity."

"Hmm," he hummed and smiled softly, "the baby of the Archeron's. Here for cake? I'll give you a discount. And, Lucien, I'm trying a new recipe for a tea blend. Would you mind taking some to Elain?"

She was aware of how his shoulders slumped and she felt for her friend, it had been so long since the redhead had even talked about being interested in anyone since being disowned by his father.

"He's cute," she leaned in next to him to whisper her approval.

Clare hummed around her cake, they sat in the far corner with Feyre's back to the door. Her female friend stiffened when the door chimed and Feyre picked out her middle soster's voice, and a familiar male's voice.

"Hello, Az!"

Lucien bowed his head.

"Lucien?" She heard the sqeal as arms wrapped around his neck, "and Feyre." She ducked her head between them, and she could understand why the three of them get confused — her sisters and her — familiar face shapes and noses. The coloring much the same. "Are you eating? I don't mean to pry but Nesta said that you called worried, maybe you should come over for dinner, oh hello, Clare. I'll make mushroom soup and maybe Az has some bread rolls he'll sell me—"

Her sister continued to ramble and Feyre had always noted that it was something that she only did around Lucien, the pink tinge of her cheeks. Idiots the both of them Clare had once said, the attraction there but both of them too obtuse to realize that each other was interested.

"Sounds nice—" her phone went off with a text and Feyre clicked the volume button, the loud ringtone scaring the hell out of all four of them. A silent second passed before they all busted out laughing.

Feyre's neck felt as if someone was staring a hole into it and she didn't want to turn around and acknowledge him. Elain let go at the way Azriel called her name and she tugged her friend's sleeve.

"He has tea for you." Lucien followed her over to the counter. Clare excused herself to the bathroom and Feyre whispered traitor after her.

Instead she picked up her phone and pretended to be busy: **'** **I'll be late tonight. Eat without me. ****'**

Well so much for spending more time together like he promised, he already cancelled their lunch together. Though she wasn't surprised, knowing that she was only second to his job and duties.

"Feyre," he name was a question testing the waters and plastering on a fake smile she turned her head.

"Yes?"

Instead of answering he looked at her, blue eyes taking in every small detail like he hadn't seen her in years instead of just a week. His mouth opened and closed a few times and she was about to just ask when that blonde from the other day poked her head between his arm and side.

"Hello," she smiled and he frowned.

Feyre stood taking her cake trash with her, the slice only half eaten. Elain caught it and shook her head, Lucien catching the movement mid conversation with the baker.

"So dinner, will the queen be joining us?"

Elain nodded, "she wasn't going to until I told her you were coming over. So now she wants to be there."

The rest of the sentence is unspoken, 'to make sure she eats.'

"I'll be over around seven," she called with a wave. A quick text to Clare that she was leaving, the door chimed as she left and headed back to— where? Home?

"Feyre!" Rhysand yelled after her and she paused, as much as she wanted to ignore him and be rude she couldn't. And being the masochist she must be she stopped to let him land that final blow.

"Whatever explanation you have it doesn't seem worth it right now. I'd pretty much not like to show up at my sisters' with a swollen crying face." The words were out, might as well be honest with him. "I would assume you lost my phone number, I've gotten that before." She moved out of the way of an oncoming group, arms crossed defensively over her chest as she stared the man down. "So?"

"I didn't want to interrupt your 'wife time' and I'll assume you lost my number too, given that day. Which if I had known I wouldn't have gone there to eat." He stepped closer and narrowed his eyes, "it was weird seeing you out with him. I mean just a small glance as you were walking past. Seems rich."

"What are you saying?" She bristled at the words, the insinuation there.

"Rich guys that are tall, blond, and think they look good also think the own the earth and everyone on it. Seems like a massive dick, how'd he land you, Feyre?" Rhys shuffled from foot to foot. "My cousin knew—"

"Are you really going to stand here and—" Her face scrunched up and she replayed the words in her head. "Cousin?"

"Yes," a stray piece of hair blew across her face and he moved it with one finger, the back of a knuckle caressing the side of her face. "Were you jealous, Feyre? Jealous that—"

She shut him up with a kiss, "maybe I was."


End file.
